Forlorn
by Boyue
Summary: Dip. One-shot. "If you’re going to look at me like that, I wish you wouldn’t look at me at all."


**South Park and its characters © Trey Parker and Matt Stone**

**Dip. One-shot.**

**Rated T for South Park language. **

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**FORLORN**

_For fuck's sake, Pip! If you're going to look at me like that, I wish you wouldn't look at me at all._

Damien darted his crimson eyes away from the sapphire orbs that belonged to Pip Pirrup. He wiped the blood from his bruised lips and took a brief look. He scoffed in displease and surprise. No one had ever made him bleed. He wasn't even sure if he actually had blood pumping through his heart. He knew he had a heart though; every time he saw his British object of obsession, the organ would twist and throw itself against his ribcage. Love was pain, his father had told him. Thanks to Pip, for the first time in his life, Damien knew what pain was. And he wasn't just talking about emotional pain. How Eric Cartman managed to land a punch on him was beyond the understanding of the anti-Christ. He must have been distracted by the golden locks of the shocked Pip as he joined the crowd that circled them. Cartman had spat a hateful comment that enraged Damien. The funny thing was that the comment wasn't even about the son of Satan. He had overheard Cartman saying something about Pip being a French pussy and he did not like it at all. They were in nine grade now and they still couldn't get pass their pus-filled heads that Pip Pirrup was British. He had never heard them calling Christophe an English faggot! Then again, Pip wasn't on the same level as the Mole.

In rage, Damien lit Cartman's pants on fire. He had made an agreement with his father that he would not use his power if he was allowed to attend Park High. He regretted igniting Cartman's pants because his father would surely find out and he would surely get a lecture. But Damien wasn't going to stand by while someone ridiculed Pip. Igniting the pants was a merciful act considering the anti-Christ's arsenal; there was much worse he could do to Cartman. He regretted again for going easy on him. The overweight boy tackled him down on the lunch court unexpectedly. He had not anticipated that Cartman would retaliate. The fat boy usually would have run off crying to his mama. A large crowd gathered around them like moths to dancing flame. There wasn't much to do in South Park; fighting was, sickly, a great form of entertainment. Damien heard Craig Tucker cheering as Cartman's knuckles came in contact with his mouth. He hissed, furrowing his thin brows as his eyes shut. Pain was not pleasant, Damien learned as Cartman threw a hit at his jaw. He could fight back like a human, but his instinct caused him to summon his servants from the seventh layer of Hell. The earth cracked open and a fountain of demons poured out. Cartman, along with the other students, screeched and ran, chased away by Damien's amorphous minions. He shouldn't have done it; his father would not be happy about it.

Only Pip remained with Damien on the empty lunch court. The Brit bit his quivering lip. He looked about to cry as he brought his hand up over his pink lips, shaking his head in what Damien could only assume was disappointment. He didn't mean to – he didn't want to – disappoint Pip. But the incident was a literal slap in the face that reminded him… He was different. No matter how much he tried to pretend to be a normal 14-year-old human boy, he was still the damned son from Hell. He could dress like the Goth kids and smudge eyeliners around his sullen eyes, but he would still stand out. It was all because of his unnatural pasty skin and those soulless blood-colored eyes. He knew it. They knew it.

Pip knew it. His darling eyes glistened with pity. He tugged at his brown bowtie with one hand. His other clutched his chest like he was having a heart attack. He kept a longing gaze on Damien, his blonde brows knitted in concern. The swamp of demons returned home, leaving silence to accompany their master and his classmate. Damien glanced away as he pulled himself off the ground. He dusted his pants and rubbed the soreness away in his jaw. He stole a look at Pip and saw the Brit was still looking at him.

"What?" Damien demanded, sounding harsh than he wanted to.

"Are you hurt?" Pip asked softly. His accent still persisted since he had made no attempt to get rid of it. His heritage was something that he was very proud of. "Eric threw a mean punch, didn't he?"

"It's none of your business, foolish mortal," the anti-Christ snarled. Pip made a small 'oh' and turned away after receiving a frightful glare from the anti-Christ. He watched the blonde headed to the building entrance. He wished Pip would stay with him. He wished he could – just once – run his slender fingers through the silky strands and know how they smell and feel like. But of course, he would never allow himself near the human boy.

Pip would grow old, he would get sick, and he would die. Damien would have to watch him suffer through the stages of life. If Pip found his way to Hell, he would be tortured according to the sins he had committed in his life, and Damien would have to watch him suffer again. If his wildest dream was granted and Pip fell in love with him, he would only contribute to the anguish awaiting Pip. God didn't take kindly to people who strayed to the Devil's path.

"Cheerio," Pip said at the door. He waved at Damien with a tender smile that stabbed daggers to the anti-Christ's throbbing heart. He slipped through the orange double-door and disappeared out of sight. The heavy door slammed like drums banging at Damien's ears.

"Good-bye," Damien muttered, dropping his eyes to the ground. He heaved a low sigh, rubbing the corner of his lip that was starting to swell up. He had told himself again and again to give up his forlorn affection for the British boy.

If only he had the power to do so.

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**Boyue's Note: Hello there! =) **

**It's my first Dip, as well as SP, story and I hope I did okay! There is just not enough Dip love here. T-T**

**01.01.09**

**7:07 PM**


End file.
